


A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Heaven

by Corycides



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Porn Battle Amnesty Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 18:39:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3421400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corycides/pseuds/Corycides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jo died trying to stop the Apocalypse, she thought she'd go to heaven. Apparently not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the Porn Battle Amnesty. Prompt from PB #15

Being a ghost hurt.

Jo lay on the floor, cramped up like a twiddled bit of elastic. It felt like she was out of sync with herself, like her kidneys were lagging a few seconds behind and her brain two inches to the right. She screwed her eyes up tight and chewed her lower lip, not sure if the salt she tasted was blood or tears.

She’d wanted to talk Dean for so badly, and for so long. Not like that, though. With Osirus’ will caging her, she’d not even been able to tell him anything important.

By this point though - she sat up and wiped her nose on her sleeve - she should be used to not getting what she wanted. Jo sat back, hands braced on the ground behind her, and tilted her head back to look at her prison. It was the world. Or at least the broken-windowed part of it where Dean was turning of the gas with slow fingers and slumped shoulders. He looked so tired, and maybe...

‘Disappointing.’

Always the heckler. Jo closed her eyes, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth. Just like the school counsellor had taught her. She looked around at her companion. Lucifer sprawled on the narrow couch, all legs, pettiness and blinding glory. He wore the face of his first host, all heavy cheekbones and deep-set eyes, and wings of harsh, shadowless light hung from his shoulders.

‘What do you want?’

He twisted his mouth at her, mugging disappointment. ‘After all the time we’ve spent together, Joanna, you know the answer to that. I want them all dead.’ He rolled off the couch and onto his feet, stalking over to poke a finger firmly against Dean’s temple. ‘Starting with this defiant little gibbon.’

Jo pushed herself to her feet, wiping the tears off her cheeks with both hands. She didn’t bother to try and hide it. After all this time, Lucifer had seen her cry too often for there to be any triumph left in it for either of them.

‘Sucks to be you then, doesn’t it,’ she said.

It was a gibe, but when Lucifer turned to look at her his expression was solemn. ‘That has always been my position.’

There were times he seemed almost human, almost someone Jo could understand and reason with. None of it was real though, it was just a mask wearing a mask. Even here, in the Cage, Jo couldn’t see all of him.

No, that was a lie. She could, she had. It just wasn’t something the human soul could bear to...contain...except in cracks and the metaphor of memory. It had been like burning and being born. It had been as bright as the sun. He’d burned like nuclear fire, blinding and corrosive. Hungry.

Jo flinched away from under the claws of that, her breath hot in her throat and heart fast with the the body memory of it. She looked at Dean and ached to help him, whisper advice in his ear, shove him the way she -from here, from outside - could see happiness waiting. Except he’d not hear her, anymore than he’d heard her any of the other times she tried.

She gave in to the temptation to touch him, cupping his cheek in her hand. There was something there, but it didn’t feel like skin. Just a cool film, an emptiness between her palm and Dean’s face.

‘I’m not your guilt, Dean,’ she said, voice cracking. ‘I wanted to be so many things, but never that.’

Lucifer made a disgusted noise and they were gone, Dean and the cold flat replaced by glittering skyscrapers, heat and a medley of furious horns. Cars and bikes and bodies surrounded her, the surprise of fumes, heat and sweat leaving her almost dizzy.

‘Where…?’

She stopped herself, swallowing the question like a scratchy stone. It was one of her rules, never to ask him anything that she really wanted an answer to. Luckily he seemed to miss her slip, or he didn’t care, or he had something better to torment her over.

 

* * *

**Hell is other people…**

* * *

 

When she’d died to try and stop the Apocalypse, Jo had kind of expected she’d go to Heaven. She’d died trying to stop the Devil, after all. It seemed only fair that would get you a fast pass to the Pearly Gates, right?

Except, it turned out that dying trying to thwart God’s plan for the apocalypse got you sent...somewhere else.

The Cage. She only learned that was what it was later, though. It wasn’t what she’d imagined when Dean and Sam had told her about it, it wasn’t some sort of uber-hell oubliette with glass cemented into the walls. It was just a place...set aside, somewhere that you could stand while the world flowed around you. While it went on without you.

She didn’t know why she’d been sent there, or why she’d been sent there alone. Once they arrived, neither did Lucifer or Michael. They couldn’t torment her. Sam - poor, mirror-broken Sam - saw the hell he expected, Jo saw the Cage for what it was. Or closer than Sam did, at least. Maybe? Sometimes she wondered, in a small, scared part of her soul, if it was all some trick of Lucifer’s to stop her doing...something.

Either way, it meant her soul was impervious to their hooks and harm.They could still be cruel - and were, cruelty to an angel was a thoughtless thing - but those injuries healed. Souls didn’t. Poor things.

So they were just stuck with each other, forever, watching the world reel to the apocalypse without them.

 

* * *

**Hell is Empty…**

* * *

 

They walked through New York, the living unconsciously making room for the dead.

‘Look at them,’ Lucifer said, lip curling as he waved his hand. ‘They don’t even breed like rodents, they multiply like a virus, covering the beautiful face of the Earth with sores and rashes. That’s what humans are, the syphilis of the galaxy. Yet they imagine that their mindless urge to rut has some sublime explanation. That they understand love.’

Always ‘them’, never ‘you’. Jo wasn’t sure if Lucifer set her aside, granting her an exception because he needed someone to talk to, or just thought she was some sort of Cage induced hallucination.

‘Don’t knock it til you’ve tried it,’ Jo told him absently. She breathed in the hot steam aroma of pork, bread and onion from one of the food carts, imagining the taste of it on her tongue. The dead didn’t get hungry, but they - or at least she - missed it.

A cool finger touched the back of her neck, tracing down the bumps of her spine. ‘You’re telling me that all that sweat and...fluids...is better than this?’

Habit caught the breath in the back of Jo’s throat, tightening her thighs and nipples. She didn’t even have those parts anymore, they had burned to ash and char and good intentions. Knowing that didn’t help.

Lucifer peeled her apart, slicing through the idea of her skin until he could touch the...the heart of her. Her soul, she supposed. Those frost-shedding wings closed around her and she saw him - the Lightbringer’s grace pouring into her until she wanted to burst and scream and melt into him.

_Jealousy. Looking at the naked, dirty monkeys, squatting and soiling and stupid, and refusing to love them. Breaking the bond between brothers, every schism sowed a mute accusation to his father for those first brothers. Jo’s hand on De-_

_Hatred. The brothers who picked their sibling tie over God. A ripple of sound, the first sound, that was Michael’s name. The distinct border of ‘Jo’ that wouldn’t surrender to him._

_Love. A ripple of sound, the first sound, that was Michael’s name. The ineffable, essential Love that was God. Looking at the naked, dirty monkeys, squatting and soiling and stupid, and refusing to love them._

_Annoyance/Want/Covetousness. A stubborn, golden candle-flame that fluttered and guttered, but refused to be absorbed._

_Pride. Always and forever, that brittle, terrible Pride._

She folded back into herself, never sure whether or not she’d lost something to the endless light that was Lucifer. Her soul rebuilt her image of self cell-by-cell and she tried not to think if this was always how she’d looked, felt, moved.

It wasn’t sex - when they did this - that was just the closest that Jo could get to understanding it. Like. Almost. Sort of. Maybe it was the closest analogue that angels had.

Lucifer’s mouth was against her ear, breath cold despite the damp heat surrounding them. ‘Would you really prefer this?’

His hand worked between her thighs, fingers cruelly rough as they ground the seam of her jeans against her wet flesh. She whimpered, a soft, weak sound, and he bit her shoulder with sharp - too sharp - teeth.

‘Lucifer...’

She would have said stop, she thought about saying stop, but she didn’t. He could have peeled her clothes away into nothing like he had her skin, but instead he wrenched them open and shoved them down around her hips. His fingers shoved up inside her roughly, pushing her up onto her toes as her body spasmed around the pleasure?pain of him stretching her.

‘It’s just nerves and lubrication,’ Lucifer said, shoving her against the wall. Clever, cold finger pinched her nipples through her shirt, cupped her breasts and squeezed till she hissed and squirmed. 'Autonomous reactions. Any rat is capable of eliciting the same reactions from their mate.'

She laughed, a sharp noise and she _felt/knew_ the twitch of affronted pride that went through him. 'I bet their pillow talk is better though.'

The cold silence made her stomach tighten, and then his voice rasped in her ear. 'Next time you think of your precious Dean, remember I made you scream.'

That worked. Jo's whole body tightened, the walls of her pussy squeezing around his fingers. His smirk was a flash of cold against her shoulder and then he slid his hand down her leg. Wet fingers nudged her legs apart, the waistband of her jeans digging in, and he thrust unceremoniously into her.

Jo swore, blunt and filthy, and braced her hands against the wall. His hands roamed over her, goose-pimpling her tender skin, as he thrust roughly into her. She pushed back into the thrust, wanting more...harder. The wall scraped her skin as she flexed her fingers, a whimper caught in her throat like a burr.

Stubble scrapped her throat, words she almost understood and knew she couldn’t throbbing against her bones, and the thickness of his cock filled her. The city moved around them - blind and deaf and what did it really matter if she was getting fucked in the middle of New York? She tried to remember that they were all real, all people just like her with feelings and dreams just like she’d had. Sometimes it was hard.

‘You taste like salt,’ Lucifer said, biting her ear. ‘Like Lot’s wife. You should have turned away, Joanna, but you had to look and now...’

He drove into her, lifting her up onto her toes. His cock felt like silk and ice inside her, stomach cramping around the alien feel of it, and she saw - _Lot’s wife caught in perfect white crystal, the wind wearing her away in powder_ \- for a second. Big hands caught her hips, pulling her back until he was buried in her, and teeth scraped her shoulder.

‘What’d I look at?’ she asked, voice ragged as she panted. Pleasure pulsed through in hard shoves, the edge of rough pain making it real, almost real.

‘Me.’

He came and she came apart, the wet spill of him inside her turning to light and sound and prickling energy. She saw... _the segmented bee hive of heaven, full of souls and drones with multiple wings and four faces; the endless, weeping tunnels of hell and the corruscating place of light and motion that the angels dwelt in._

Her throat was raw when she came back together, her body shuddering with orgasmic aftershocks around the cold flesh still inside her. They weren’t in New York anymore, they were somewhere else. Somewhere still. Lucifer pulled out of her and cupped his hand between her thighs, rubbing his fingers curiously in the spill of mixed fluids.

‘Not so disappointing,’ he noted.

Apples scattered the ground under their feet, green and mealy. The smell of sweet apple and soured cider hung in the air. It was nowhere that Jo had ever been. She knew it though.

‘What have you done to me?’ she asked, hitching her jeans up and turning around. Lucifer touched her face with sex sticky fingers, wrapping his wings around them both. ‘What am I? Ghost, demon?’

Feathers of light brushed her shoulders, caught in her hair. They felt filigree patterns of lace and frost where they touched. ‘We don’t know yet.’


End file.
